


bring home a keeper

by spookysp_ace (summermoonsdawn)



Series: osaaka week 2020 [7]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Akaashi Keiji's thought process, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Canon Compliant Except:, Fluff, Grad Student!Akaashi, M/M, Meeting Again, Osamu has tattoos, Second Meetings?, technically a "prequel" to my day 4 fic, though briefly mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:20:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26552728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summermoonsdawn/pseuds/spookysp_ace
Summary: osaaka week, day 7 || chef/food critic || onigiri-He could never have more. Indulgences were something he’d not been able to afford. Or had the time for.Lust, like, and love–the three L’s were all included on that list of indulgences he’d cut out of his life in pursuit of his career.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Miya Osamu
Series: osaaka week 2020 [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1922587
Comments: 2
Kudos: 96
Collections: Osaaka Week 2020





	bring home a keeper

**Author's Note:**

> last day of osaaka week!! whoooo!! idk if... y'all could tell.... but my brain just stuttered and halted oof. this is still??? very cute and soft but yeah :")) my brain hurts right now. and i have so much hw i have to do and i'm.... ignoring it
> 
> this is technically? like a prequel to day 4's fic? i think you can read either one without the other and it's fine.
> 
> anyways, i hope y'all still enjoy! no song with this part either.

* * *

_“I was always hungry for love._

_Just once, I wanted to know_

_what it was like to get my fill of it –_

_to be fed so much love_

_I couldn’t take any more. Just once.”_

  
  
  


* * *

His thought process went a little like this:

_.15 seconds_

He’d only met him once before.

_.30 seconds_

Had Bokuto mentioned him since then? Bokuto often talked about the Miya twins ( _Myaa-sam)_. He could only assume that Bokuto also talked about Akaashi to them.

To Osamu.

_.45 seconds_

Of course, that was the likely thought. Then had Akaashi done something worth remembering to the owner of Onigiri Miya? They had only met once. Akaashi hadn’t somehow offended Osamu in that ten minute window they’d talked—had he?

_.67 seconds_

No, he concluded. He couldn’t have. The conversation they’d had at the MSBY vs Adlers game was short, polite, inquiring about a Tokyo location—where Akaashi now resided. No more, no less. As far as Akaashi had tried at least—where he may have wanted more, he’d convinced himself in the span of that conversation that he couldn’t have more. They had traded information cards strictly for business.

Akaashi was called, usually, smart, by his friends.

Excluding when it came to his interest in dating, crushes, the likes of certain men.

(The likes of Miya Osamu.)

_.89 seconds_

He could never have more. Indulgences were something he’d not been able to afford. Or had the time for.

Lust, like, and love–the three L’s were all included on that list of indulgences he’d cut out of his life in pursuit of his career.

And that’s how he came to be in his current predicament. With Miya Osamu watching him, with his grocery cart facing Akaashi’s own, at a store just down the street from Akaashi’s apartment. 

Osamu didn’t look much different than the last time they’d seen one another. Instead, he had on a short sleeved black t-shirt with the _Onigiri Miya_ logo on it. He still had a hat on, looking as if he’d just gotten off work or had left the store recently. 

Oh. Akaashi could also see tattoos crawling up his arms. From his bicep crawled what looked like stark, large lotus petals–filled dark, and some not–but also, maybe, the head of a fox, if only the bottom half of its opened mouth. Lower down on the same arm, on the forearm, were several types of chef’s knives and other utensils inked. 

That was a major descriptive point that had been successfully covered the last time and had at least given Akaashi some semblance of obliviousness when it came to how attractive Osamu was.

Not, that there was any doubt about that. He was—is still—incredibly attractive. Only now, Akaashi had been given a consequential piece to a puzzle he knew he was going to get invested in as soon as all the pieces were laid in front him. And here was one of those lovely pieces, still staring at him with hooded eyes. Osamu reminded Akaashi both of a leopard lounging in the sun, soaking in the heat and stretching out on rocks without a care in the world, even though it could pounce at any moment; and also—of a house cat.

Akaashi was incredibly interested in finding out why the latter stood out to him the most, and why Osamu seemed like the type who wanted his hair stroked and could get it without having to say a word.

And why Akaashi wanted to be the one stroking the fine, dark strands through his fingers. If Osamu would let him.

“Fukurodani setter,” he drawled. “Ya have my card.”

“You have mine as well, Myaa-sam.”

Osamu’s eyes crinkled with a half-smile pulling on his countenance. “Were you expecting a call?”

(Was he?)

“I couldn’t help but crave being the first customer to your Tokyo location,” Akaashi started. His chest clenched under the unrelenting weight of Osamu’s gaze. “It appears,” he continued, “that won’t be the case.”

Osamu’s lips then curved into a smirk—eyes dancing with mystery and laughter he hadn’t yet shared with Akaashi. 

“‘Kaashi,” his voice was a purr, a cascade of water over pebbles, “yer jumping the gun.”

“Oh?”

“I haven’t opened quite yet. I’ve been waiting on a call from someone special before I do.”

Akaashi’s heart settled at that. “Oh. Were you?”

Osamu’s eyebrows raised again as if asking a question that Akaashi hadn’t yet found the answer to. Instead of answering, Osamu looked at Akaashi's grocery basket. His eyes roved over the boxes of instant noodles and quick dinners before taking the basket from Akaashi and placing it in some meaningless place on the aisle they’d stopped in.

Osamu said, “I’m going to make you dinner.”

And Akaashi, the Fool in the deck of cards, could only agree.

  
  
  


•

  
  


Since Osamu had yet to settle on an apartment in Tokyo, he’d continued to stay in hotels or with friends when he was visiting to check on the new location. That said, Akaashi had offered that they go to his apartment.

Osamu agreed. After he’d bought extra ingredients for the evening, the left the store behind them.

  
  
  


•

  
  


“Ya got a nice kitchen,” the other noted after Akaashi had come back from putting his bag in the single bedroom. 

He was lucky as a postgrad student that he’d found the apartment he had. Konoha’s aunt was the landlord, and knew that she was looking for a new tenant–after the previous tenant had evidently done some unmentionable things (i.e., setting a chair on fire on the small balcony). Konoha had given his word to his aunt about Akaashi, about him being a graduate student in literature who was starting to TA for a couple of classes–and she’d given him a price that he couldn’t say no to.

There was the one small bedroom, a bathroom, little living area, and a larger balcony than he’d expected when he first moved in. The balcony was also home to his plants–as well as the small stand of his plant children inside by the balcony door. 

(Yukie had once suggested since he was too busy to have a cat, he should try plants. Now he had nine: three spider plants, two UFO plants gifted from Oikawa, a ficus alii he’d fondly named Fuckus, a monstera, two fiddle leaf figs–though one was by the entry door.)

And the kitchen _was_ nice. Akaashi had hoped with a better kitchen than the last one he’d shared with two other people, that he’d find the time to learn more about cooking.

That was not the case.

“Ya ever even used it?” Osamu asked, eyebrows raised. His small, housecat-in-sun, smile was back on his face.

Akaashi cleared his throat, refusing to mention that _no_ , most of what he bought and ate, came from the nearby konbini. “Uh…”

“S’okay, then I’ll be the first to give ya a good meal from yer own kitchen.”

Akaashi found himself smiling in return. “What are we making then, Myaa-sam?”

“Call me Osamu,” he said, before stating simply: “Onigiri.”

He moved to place the grocery store bags onto the single island counter in the kitchen. “Ya mind if I take control of yer kitchen.”

“Please do,” Akaashi replied, trying hard not to think of the other implications _taking control_ could mean. “A flavor in particular?”

The other hummed, before taking his cap off and shaking the strands in his face. “You’ll see. Wanna help?”

Akaashi blinked at the other, at the questionable gaze behind the other’s dark slate grey orbs. 

“You might regret that, Myaa-sam.”

“Lettin’ ya into the kitchen?”

“I’m not the best when it comes to making things.”

“Maybe,” Osamu said, licking his lips, “Maybe ya just need a teacher.”

Akaashi’s heart stopped.

This time, his thought process went a little like this:

_Error 404._

_Page not found._

All the words he wished he could say–knew that he _knew–_ evaporated like mist.

He asked, “Are you going to be my teacher?”

“We all start from somewhere.”

“And–” Akaashi began to tug on his fingers, as he stepped from the threshold of his living space, into the kitchen, “–and after that somewhere? What about from there?”

Osamu had the fucking gall to smirk.

“Let’s see how those fingers of yers work with onigiri first.”

Akaashi didn’t know yet, but Osamu would never tell him _no._ Not in this way–with Akaashi looking at him expectantly, emerald eyes sparkling, shining–like Osamu was the gemologist and Akaashi was a jewel sitting on a plush pillow.

  
  
  


•

  
  


“Roll up yer sleeves,” Osamu stated after washing his hands. He pushed into Akaashi’s space. Though they were nearly the same height, Osamu’s shoulders curved so his presence hovered. They were close enough that Akaashi could breath in the scent of teak cologne or shampoo. 

“Mind if I–” Osamu continued, before placing fingers on the edge of Akaashi’s sleeves–the tips of his fingers brushing over his wrist.

Akaashi tried not to suck in a breath, to breathe in all of Osamu’s existence at once. _Is this too much? If I nod, is it too much?_

_Is he flirting?_

_If I nod, is that flirting back?_

Despite his thoughts–the anxieties bulging behind his eyes–he nodded. 

Osamu’s fingers then pressed–a feather with purpose on the ground–to the hem of Akaashi’s sleeve. They folded, tucked, folded again, tucked. The pattern continued until one of Akaashi’s forearms was exposed, then again for his other arm.

The other man’s breathing was slow, but it curled over the edges of Akaashi’s face. He wondered if Osamu knew what he was doing to Akaashi.

“Heh. There ya go,” Osamu said, before pulling back, small smile on his face.

_He has to know,_ Akaashi thought.

Akaashi was near unreadable for most–he’d been compared to determining white paint brushed over a piece of paper to the actual background of paper. Indiscernible unless your eyes were close. And Osamu’s eyes were very close.

  
  
  


•

  
  
  


Osamu had decided to try umeboshi, but specifically using ko ume. He said he’d made them with the wrinkly plums before but more as a tradition. This time, he decided to use the ko ume for crunch–and their slight tang with the rice.

  
  
  


•

  
  
  


“Someone should make sure ya eat yer fill, ‘Kaashi-kun,” Osamu drawled, before sucking the plum juice off of his thumb. “Can’t letcha starve.”

Akaashi watched the swipe of his tongue over smooth skin. “Isn’t that unsanitary, Miyaa-sam?”

“I told ya,” he said instead, “ya should call me Osamu.”

  
  
  


•

When it came time to test what their hands had made together, Akaashi could merely sigh as the flavor burst on his taste buds.

“Maybe ya shoulda been a food critic instead,” Osamu smirked. “Very intelligent.”

With a sound close enough to a moan, he bit back into the onigiri. The tanginess that usually came with ko ume was flavorful in its mingling with the sprinkled sea salt. He continued to munch on the rice–rolling the extra saltiness from the nori on his tongue.

“How’s it taste?” Osamu asked.

Akaashi looked at him. Osamu’s eyes were anxious but trained on Akaashi’s expression, on his lips, before back up–waiting for judgement from their critic. His own eyes wandered from the onigiri in his hand, back to the man’s held suspense.

With a sigh, and a lick of his own tongue over his lips, his nerves fell away.

“Try it for me?” Akaashi asked. “A chef should try their own creation.”

Osamu drew in a deep breath. 

_Can I?_ His eyes asked. Akaashi wondered for a moment why he would ask to taste the onigiri he’d just made.

He nodded though, raising the onigiri up to Osamu–

Instead, Osamu leaned forward with his hands, taking Akaashi’s face. “Can I?” He asked, sound rumbling low between them. His hands enveloped Akaashi’s chin and cheeks–thumbs rolled close to his eyes, coaxing a soft puff of breath from his lips.

His thought process went a little like this:

_.15 seconds_

This was the second time he’d officially met him.

_.30 seconds_

He was sure this wasn’t going to be the last time.

_.47 seconds_

Something about Akaashi must have been worth remembering if Osamu was now in Akaashi’s kitchen, making him food, and _asking him to–_

“Yes, Osamu,” Akaashi whispered.

Osamu’s lips–with their share of ko ume on Akaashi’s own–were gentle.

And Akaashi–

Akaashi knew at least, of the three L’s, love would be an indulgence he’d have to give a chance.

•

And Osamu–

Osamu thought Akaashi was always worth remembering

  
  


* * *

**Author's Note:**

> extra:
> 
> osamu: is it too early to ask for yer hand?  
> akaashi: my hand..?  
> osamu: in marriage  
> akaashi: *loud brain noises, dying inside* let's go on a date first.
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/spacedaichi)
> 
> AAAAAAAA OKAY AND THAT'S A WRAP!!!! for this part i really wish i would have gone more into akaashi's plants and the lust, like, love thing but eh.
> 
> anyways!! thanks for reading and commenting and all the fun things!! i hope i wrote at least one thing that made you make happy noises????
> 
> kudos and comments always welcome <3 this is certainly not the last osaaka thing i'm doing. i love them too much for that. (that royalty fic..... i have THOUGHTS okay)


End file.
